


A Head of Shuttered Dreams

by Sanoiro



Series: Unveiling Gary Preston [1]
Category: Miranda (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanoiro/pseuds/Sanoiro
Summary: Gary Preston in 2008 had to go through some much-needed therapy. It was not always easy but most often than not his gravitational point seemed to be her. Dealing with events prior, during and after the series. Part of AFoPE universe. (On a temporary Hiatus)This needs to be edited so read at your own risk. My apologies about that...





	1. Session 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll try to make this a countdown to Christmas. Aka 24 chapters to go. 
> 
> The chapters will be around 1000 words each. Sometimes more, sometimes less. 
> 
> I’ll really try to keep up with the daily updates but I might have to post the bulk of the story during the Christmas holidays. Fingers crossed everything will go according to plan. 
> 
> This story is based on certain ideas I had during writing the first fic as well as thinking that Gary’s first selection (Back for good), deserved to be explained.

Session 1 

 

> “I guess now it's time for me to give up”
> 
>  

 

 (August 2008)

 

The droplets of the morning shower could still be heard falling through the seemingly ancient wooden windows. The musky smell of wet carpet and aromatic tobacco lingered in the air with no way to escape. In his hand, there was a glass of well-aged brandy which he still had not found the interest to sip from. He viciously swirled the drink and swore to the person accountable for his present confinement. 

“We will not make a habit of it. The drink that is, bloody expensive to be wasted in such a way.” the grating old man spat at him. 

Emery Gresham was a nasty piece of work. At almost eighty he had little patience for the ones who he deemed unworthy of his time. Apparently, Gary was falling into that category and he winced mentally at Emery’s obvious disdain for their current circumstance. When he agreed to take the deal, he certainly had not expected to end up in an old posh study with a man who had an inexplicable burning  hatred towards him since their first meeting. Meaning about half an hour ago. 

“I promised that imp to have a few sessions with you and it’s best to start talking!” Emery all but barked at him. 

Gary downed the contents of his glass in one go and welcomed the burn. England was a foreign place to him now and between the cold and Emery, he couldn’t find any reason to abstain from something that felt familiar. The burning of hard liquor. 

“Where do you want me to begin from?” he tremulously demanded. 

“Choking your roommate would be a somewhat interesting, for most, beginning”  Emery grumbled and stuffed his pipe with some fresh tobacco. 

“But not for you.” he had no idea why he was challenging a man who didn’t seem able to take two steps without falling. 

“Never for me”. a snort escaped his wrinkled mouth and slowly flicked the lighter lightening his pipe. 

 

* * *

 

(June 1999)

 

With his knuckles still sore he continued to grab all his personal items and throw them in the same worn suitcase he had arrived with at the dorm four years ago. Being broke at least had its advantages when it came to speedy exists. His maternal grandfather’s tuition fund could only cover that much. With a few knick knacks thrown carelessly on top of his shirts, he zipped the suitcase with some difficulty, grabbed his wallet. He made it to the door yet he didn't seem tp able to motion his hands to unlock it. He passed his fingers through the now sweaty forehead and wild curls only to remember what had made him so unwilling to leave just yet. 

Carelessly he dropped the suitcase and sprinted back to his bed. Under the mattress, tucked in a well-worn pillow case was what he had forgotten. Carefully he caressed it and placed it with great care in his full suitcase. After some consideration, he threw out a couple of books and made a snuggle little place for his treasured  possession. 

In his still crazed state he had an abnormal clarity on how to proceed. 

“You will go to a military academy next year boy! I’ll not tolerate a snivelling sod around for much longer!” his father had hallowed after one of his favourite terrorising games with him while processing on choking a ten-year-old Gary. 

During his teenage years, he had learned to cope with the flares of irritability and rarely anger when he was pushed on edge. As a child, he had to battle his panic attacks yet he rarely overcame them. Thus, the slowly suffocating feeling was a disturbingly familiar and welcoming  feeling.

In less than half an hour he had reached his destination and curtly greeted the man who had tried to persuade him to join a month ago. 

“Thought over my offer chap, did you not?” the recruiter practically gloated at him. 

Not trusting himself to speak or collapse in the spot, he simply nodded and took a seat to the nearest chair he could find. 

“So how far do you see yourself going with us Mr Preston?” the RAF recruiter demanded as he laid out to him three different packs of options to pick from. 

“As far as humanly possible sir.” his voice echoed and his fingers nestled on the Hong Kong base for adult volunteers of the Royal Air Force.  

 

End of First Session

* * *

 

 


	2. Session 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit late but this fandom is practically dead or not interested in this. Still, I love it. 
> 
> If you haven't noticed it yet I'm going almost lyric by lyric with the song. 
> 
> Also, I absolutely adore this story. It's not about a love at first sight but more about an obsession and need for comfort at first. 
> 
> Every chapter will revolve around Gary and Miranda in one way or the other.

 

Session 2

 

(September 2008)

 

 

> "I feel it's time"

 

The cold had set and his bones welcomed the lightened fire which was almost soundlessly crackling in the background. Today there was no offer of hard liquor but a simple cup of tea. No sweetener nor milk. It was supposed to be as bitter as it could be and this selection certainly was exceeding itself in the strength of taste.

"With age, your taste buds, bid you goodbye." Emery gruffed clucking his tongue at the bitterness. Gary rolled his eyes but noncommittally focused his eyes on examining the well-familiarized room from their previous sessions.

"Speaking of taste buds, you are a cook-" the word rolled with distaste and doubtfulness out of his wrinkled lips.

"A chef really." Gary just felt the need to defend his ground on this. Cooking was the only thing in his life that actually made sense. The old man studied him sharply before openly huffing his disregard on either term being used.

"Cooking is a monotonous activity lad." he murmured while stirring his cup in his slightly by age trembling left hand.

"I would disagree on that actually. It can be an amazing activity and not at all monotonous!" he insisted. The thrill of finding new recipes, on having people eat your dishes and watching their contentment with every bite. That was what had drawn him so much in this kind of profession.

"I'll not going to sugar coated for you, so do not expect that in any point during *this*" Emery hissed and saw Gary somewhat shrinking at the back of his armchair. His left eyebrow raised faintly noting the young man's reaction and store that information for later use.

"Cooking provides the comfort of a monotonous activity. It's also an activity in which you hold control over every aspect and the result is usually edible." His eyes lingered at the far top of his bookcase and absently took one more sip of his spiked tea. He had meant it when he said he wouldn't let the boy go through his personal liquor storage again.

"For today I have two questions. The first is when did you cook for the first time." he watched the man across him involuntary tensing and his eyes glazing which were now lost in a memory that probably took him way more back than Emery had intended.

"I was eleven." Gary's eyes blurred inexplicably with no apparent cause and that made the memories come back to him quicker than he had expected or wanted them to.

"It was after *he was gone and I had to remain under the state's care until my mother was deemed qualified on getting me back." The past was never easy to talk but that part of his past was perhaps one of the most normal times of his childhood. Then the teen years had arrived and while he had lost one tormentor he had gained several others. Inside and outside of his house that is. His mother certainly had a terrible taste.

"I was all over the place back then and there was this nurse. She just had it with me and took me for an early snack in the kitchens and everything else seemed to click from that point." There was so much a boy would do while confined in a room for days to end without any kind of stimulation aside from the other randomly dropping and leaving patients.

"A nurse implies a hospital. Explain." That man was always so bloody laconic and knew exactly where to shoot and of course, he took him down every single time.

"I was roughed up and was required to stay there for a while." he passed the explanation hurriedly and took a big gulp from his now lukewarm beverage.

"How long?" Emery shot back with a sly smirk. And there he had him again. What was the point of lying or even avoiding what once was his reality?

"Eight months, close to nine. Before you ask, apart from a few broken bones and the required physiotherapy I was fit to leave after the first month or so." he commented more for his own benefit.

"Gary boy…" the man across him taunted setting his now empty cup with an audible clank to the saucer next to him.

"Broken bones do indeed heal in a couple of months. Yet panic attacks, nightmares and if I'd guess flares of rage were certainly a problem. Weren't there now?" he had seen through his long not acknowledged truth. An eleven-year-old Gary Preston had indeed spent the better part of the year in a hospital. Yet no one had ever asked more once the breaking bones were mentioned.

"You weren't a charge of the orthopaedics department boy" Emery leaned to whisper the truth to a currently pale and clammy Gary. His hands had begun to visibly tremble and his breaths were coming quick, short and forced by every passing second.

"Stop!" he yelled and immediately felt his body respond by letting the tension slip. His limp body fell even deeper in the leather armchair and his eyes flickered to the unconcerned senile man who believed himself to be a widely acclaimed psychiatrist.

"Good job there." he praised him and got to refill his cup. Taking, behind his back, a small flask he poured a generous amount of liquid in his tea cup and resettled sighing in contentment.

"Are you mad?" Gary rasped with difficulty.

"You were a charge of the psychiatry department and you had to fool them at some point did you not boy?" Emery slowly demanded. "You had to find the curving point and apparently you were smart enough find somehow a *key." his eyes were now fixed on Gary's left fist, now tightened around something disturbingly bright in colour.

"Tell me boy, when did you fell in love with the concoction atrocity you call cooking?" for the first time he asked him with open interest. If Gary was trying to shake the uneasiness from his body, answering that question was probably the remedy he knew that it would undoubtedly work.

 

* * *

 

(October 1996)

 

"Are you sure you can walk?" his anxious gaze drifted again on her limping right leg. From all the stupid things to happen today he just had to go and disable that poor girl. Her nose scrunched in discomfort but she flashed him a whole-hearted smile.

"That, that's how we titans walk" she jokingly exclaimed only for her mouth to open in horror. Her eyes batted for a few seconds and with her mouth set in a hard line, she lowered her face, then with more determination she walked along with him the path towards the campus.

In less than a quarter of silent limp-walking and with already ten minutes of delay on their schedule, they tentatively knocked the door of the old home economics classroom. With a surprise, Gary realised from behind of Miranda that he was the only male in the class. The teacher gestured the far end of the classroom and they awkwardly took their place in front of a spotless kitchen counter with a stove underneath.

"The instructions are simple." the teacher said in an encouraging tone. "You follow the tips on the board and the recipe on page 58. You work in pairs and the ingredients are behind that door." she blindly showed them a door of a storage room.

"Any idea of how to proceed?" he asked Miranda beside him. She simply shrugged and opened the book she was holding on their entire walk.

"Rum muffins?" she shrilled higher than expected and the whole classroom turned to give her a hard stare. In a sudden turn of events, most of the class lingered only now many pairs of eyes were focused on him. That alone made him fidget and instinctively he leaned behind Miranda's right shoulder.

"Not a fan of those?" he curiously asked while trying to avoid making eye contact with any of the predators in the room.

"They sound interesting but we even have to make their cups from wax paper!" she certainly was not happy about handcrafting a dozen of cups.

"What about we take it step by step and see how it goes?" he offered with a charming smile and it pleased him to see that she was slowly relaxing to the idea of collaborating over a bunch of muffins.

"I have to warn you, though" she whispered taking a step back and getting closer to him while sounding overwhelmed by something. "I'm not much of a baker or a cook on the matter." her cheeks and ears took a hilarious flushed colouring and she ducked her head back to the recipe.

The process of whisking the ingredients together into a mix of rum fragrance batter was more relaxing that he would ever have thought. Granted he had done the whole thing by himself but it was hardly an inconvenience. Looking often sideways he caught Miranda stealing looks over him whisking and longingly staring at the bowl. Her task had produced some cone-like cups but she was so delighted over what she had managed that he just grinned and poured the batter in the uneven cups.

"You think they will be alright?" she asked him while biting her lip and checking the baking rack once more.

"I think they will be fine," he assured her and grabbed two spoons. Pushing the bowl towards her he lifted the spoons for her to see and gave her a smile. Her eyes lightened up and took one them.

"I left some more out." he said when she gave him a questioning look over the amount of batter which was still in the bowl.

"I think you are my new best friend…" she froze with the spoon in her mouth and her eyes narrowed.

"I'm Gary" he chuckled and took a spoonful of batter goodliness. "Preston. Garry Preston." She giggled and she scooped one more spoonful as well.

"Miranda." she introduced herself and took out her hand for a shake.

"Well, delighted to meet you Miranda." he squeaked and cleared his throat while taking her cold hand in his warm one.

"Fire!" a voice in front of them hollered and soon enough a cloud of smoke enfold them both.

In between the coughs and the sound of thundering running feet he could hear Miranda wailing over highly put wax paper, now blazingly inflamed.

* * *

 

 

(September 2008)

 

Emery took a draw from his pipe but the small smile was too late to be hidden.

"It wouldn't be the last time I presume?" his voice mirthfully questioned him.

Gary lazily shook his head in confirmation and relished of the contentment his body was in at the moment. Somewhere between the tobacco and the musty smell in the room, he could have sworn that somewhere there was the faint sweetness of vanilla and rum.

* * *

 

End of Second Session

 


	3. Session 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the third session. 
> 
> I just love angst but I find the past's section hilarious or at least satisfactory funny. 
> 
> I wonder... does anyone even read this? Yet I just know that I cannot stop, at least not now. This will be completed even if at some point I'll have to skip some days and complete this during the Christmas holidays.

 

Session 3

 

(September 2008)

 

 

 

 

> Whenever I'm wrong

 

 

The box was placed on the small wooden coffee table in between them. No words had been exchanged since he had closed the heavy door behind him. He had just unwrapped the small package, placed it in front of that despicable piece of work which was disguised rather unsuccessfully as a human being and the waited for the game to begin. The seconds gave way to minutes and the minutes to quarters. He could have resigned and left this place for good but a promise was a promise despite not been acknowledged for forty-five minutes. 

At the fifth tobacco restocking of his pipe, instead of lightening it Emery placed it to his lap and leaned to examine the contents of the box. He randomly picked one of the box’s contents and popped it quickly in his mouth. Gary fixed his eyes on the man’s eyes and patiently waited. 

“You will not find what you are looking for boy,” he told him and closed his eyes. His mouth continued to make plucking noises a sign of his denture resettling every once in a while. Gary frowned on getting caught at what he believed to be a discreet evaluation on how his food was received. 

“Which brings us to the third question.” Emery picked his pipe and took a deep draw as he lightened it up. The small orange flames of the burning tobacco were slowly replaced by a thick fog of aromatic notes of something similar to sandalwood.

“We only have ten minutes left for the day” Gary countered in hopes to avoid opening up to what he perceived as a dangerous individual who was sitting right across from him. 

“And they will be enough.” he cut him with a no nonsense tone. Dragging another deep inhale of tobacco he opened his eyes and Gary met his cold washed blue eyes. There was no twinkle or warmth. No caring or kind interest. They were set on dissecting and they promised to do it as painfully as possible. With difficulty, he swallowed the lump that was stuck in his throat and tried to regulate his breathing in order to avoid the spectacle of their previous session. 

“We know both of whens, but what I want to know today is why. Why did you pursue this career, why does it make it so worthwhile? Why do you enjoy making other people's food?” he questioned him slowly and methodically. He had just taken off all of his layers and left him there bare, blindingly searching for something to get him out of the pit he had been thrown into. 

“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted frowning. All he knew was that it made him have a purpose. It was just something that made sense it was that simple. 

“Boy we have a deal on not wasting my time” the old man growled and set his pipe down once more. 

“Let me thus rephrase. When you started cooking, why did you kept up doing it? What did it provide you with? Go back boy!” Emery commanded him out of old habit. And a command was what Gary always followed. Nothing ever turned out well when he had dared to defy one. 

 

* * *

 

(February 1997)

 

“Don’t you dare touch them” a muffled voice gave an ultimatum from behind a closed door. Grumbling his eyes glared at the carefully wrapped package. He licked his lips and practically whimpered. He took a quick look at the still closed door and with the coast clear he stretched to reach the package.

“I’m serious. Touch it and you are a dead man,” the voice could now be heard from behind him quite clearly. The door had opened to reveal a shirtless Gary threatening him by extending towards his person a well-chewed toothbrush. 

“You know that you should change these every three months or so right?” he told him for a millionth time in the span of the past four months. 

“I’m a chewer!” Gary rinsed quickly and winced at inspecting his toothbrush. Who took out their anxiety on chewing their toothbrush? Sighing in defeat he made a mental note to pick a new one at his next grocery shopping. Then was when he heard paper being ruffled. 

“I told you, hands off!” he practically ran into the room to find a sulking Tom with his hands firmly holding the package close to his chest. 

“It’s not fair” he whined and made a move to rip the wrap only to find himself tackled on the floor and the package was once again secured by Gary and was now held high in the air 

“I should have never persuaded you to join the Lacrosse team.” Tom was simply not a happy camper lately. With the package safely tucked in his sports bag, Gary quickly put a thick jumper and made his way out the dorm but not before taking mockingly his tongue out for him to see. 

It was less than three hours later when Tom’s studying was disturbed when a familiar package was dropped with force on his open book. 

“All yours” a disheartened Gary mumbled and dropped face down on his bed. The scent of wet grass and sweat made his nose wrinkle slightly but he quickly focused on the small package on hand. 

He ripped the previously carefully closed brown paper bag and took out the two muffins. Smiling in delight he wolfed them down before Gary changed his mind and patted his stomach in satisfaction. With the aftertaste lingering, he decided to get a glass of water but not before hearing Gary’s kicks of frustration on the mattress and a smothered mulling saying: “I don’t get it!”

Perhaps. just perhaps he should have shared his observation with his poor roommate. But then again Gary’s savoury muffins were exceptionally good. For the sweet ones, unfortunately, he could not offer an opinion. 

 

* * *

 

(September 2008)

 

Emery took the last two mini muffins and decided on picking the one which smelt sweeter. When the frosting had hit his tongue he just had to admit that the lad was a really damn good baker. Cook, baker, chef. Pick the word and he was _it_. He felt the smooth buttery frosting melting away and he knew that kid indeed had a gift. Without warning, he heard a sign of relief. 

Gary was looking at the small wrinkled corners of the man’s eyes. As he took the whole mini muffin in his mouth the corners softened and his face relaxed for the first time. When he heard him signing, he schooled his features back to a hard scowl and continued to swallow the last of the chewed muffin in his mouth. 

“A sense of approval and a sign of affection,” told more to himself than to the fidgeting young man.  With popping the last of the muffins in his mouth he felt his features melting willingly this time to the effect of the flavour. 

“There are takers and there are givers. But givers don’t always know what to give. They want to make people around them happy and gain approval. They want to show affection but are not capable of being open about that,” he knew he was rumbling and he blamed the deliciousness that had just consumed. It could also even be the unverified effect of a sugar rush. The boy looked at him perplexed and his hands had entwined unknowingly in a defensive posture. 

“I’m not sure I understand” he shyly admitted and refused to meet his eyes. 

“You surely don’t.” Emery snubbed “But I feel generous for some reason,” he admitted with great difficulty. 

“So I’ll make it clear for you,” that coaxed Gary to alarmingly look back at him and their eyes fixed to challenge each other. That would be an entertaining piece of information. “You craved for approval from one person in particular. And for that you picked your weapon of choice.” he winked at him and Gary cocked his head eyes flickering in question. Seeking for approval was not something he had never caught himself craving or attempting to get. 

“Yet you are not unfamiliar with that,” Emery observed closely his reaction and a wicked smile appeared suddenly on his face making him a terrifying form in the dimness of the room for Gary. 

“But you are clueless on that you actually showed a kind of unadulterated affection towards someone, aren’t you know?” The white knuckles of Gary’s discreetly fisted left hand confirmed his suspicion even if his face never betrayed the slightest. Damn the boy was adaptable to the changes of emotional pressure. 

“Now the question is to whom.” his voice slowly breathed the words while arranging his pipe once more but without missing the slight glistening of sweat appearing on the lad’s upper forehead. Perhaps, not that adjustable. Good.  

* * *

End of Third Session 


	4. Session 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if I’ll be able to keep up with the daily updates. Another fandom takes much of my time because I just had to go and start a Christmas Countdown Challenge. Now that I have to postgrad courses running at the same time and a doc supervisor hunting me down for updates and I have no idea what else. 
> 
> Also, I know that at best a handful will read this and I have no idea how many will enjoy it. So I was thinking of stopping but I don’t do that for the views or the nonexistent reviews. Despite the headaches and the shortage of time, I’ll complete this hopefully before the New Years. This story as I have written before is about exploring Gary. It was not always love, we would be foolish to believe that, even in a make believe world. But I feel that people have experienced harbouring feelings or desires for years. So now let me go back to a hilariously (sometimes) tormented Gary. 
> 
> *Not properly edited*

Session 4

 

 

> "Can't you find a little room inside for me"
> 
>  

 

(October 2008)

“Close the door and sit down” Emery’s muffled voice by the pipe between his lips greeted him when he opened the door. “Hurry up boy we don’t have all day now!” he urged him to take a seat with a waving of his hand.

“I thought you could drive people up the wall in less than a quarter,” he teased him and gave him a package of baked goodies. Although they had not worked in his favour the previous time, at least they had softened him just enough. If so barely, but at this point, he would get what he could.

“All I need is five minutes and you will be all reeled up,” he promised with a scoff. Gary actually believed that he could do it also in two but why push his luck?

“And yet today I need all the time I can get with you,” Emery revealed with the first honest smile Gary had ever seen on his face. This was supposed to be some kind of reversed-reverse psychology that the old man was employing today. He took his place in the leather armchair and for the first time, he saw the served orange juice at his side of the coffee table.

“So what will be our talk about today,” Gary decided to openly inquire what he would be forced to relive today. The man’s mouth twitched and right there he knew that something was off.

“Let’s talk about *intimacy,” Emery proposed, but in reality demanded from him. Before he could utter a word of disagreement, Emery took with great difficulty from under the table a wooden portable chess. He cursed himself that he should have known not to trust that vile man.

* * *

(December 1997)

The lights were set low and the music was blasting right above his head. If he had not downed two shots before being persuaded to join Tom for his night escapade he would have already called it a night. At certain times a tipsy freshman would hit on him and he would politely redirect her to his eager friend. Now with a bear on hand, he was content on watching the room buzzing in celebration for the impending Christmas break.

“You know that that young thing over there has her eyes set on you for the past half an hour, right?” Tom rested his arm on his shoulder and shakes him slightly in hopes to finally get him loose and enjoy himself. There was indeed a young girl at the corner who was sizing him up in a very uncomfortable for Gary way.

With a slight shudder, he turned his back to her and leaned on the makeshift bar counter for the night.

“You are unbelievable, mate.” his disappointment was obvious to Gary and if it wasn’t the strong unfriendly pat on his shoulder would have made that clear as well.

He had a fair share of sexual encounters at his last years of school but all while being in short-lived relationships. Soon they all realised that he could simply not commit fully emotionally. That was something he never understood. Words were words and actions were actions. But he never went far with actions.

“Gary!” a squeaky voice came from behind him and surely enough Steevie was there. He awkwardly hugged her and offered her one of the still unopened beers from the counter which she gladly accepted.

“What brings you here squirrel?” he asked her and reached for the bottle opener.

“We had to know what all this fuss was over the annual Christmas break party of course!” how such a small creature vibrate with such energy was a mystery to him.

“We?” It was impossible. Miranda was never a big fun of large gatherings. Scratch that. She would be running in the other direction at the mention of even attending one. Not that this was also the reason why he had chosen not to splurge to the delights of university life himself.

“Hi..” came a tentative small voice from his right and sure there she was. Meek and obviously uncomfortable with the crowd around them. His own greeting was drowned in the loud music but the waving seemed to be enough for her. He motioned his hand towards the dance floor and she quickly shook her head at a clear ‘no’. Shrugging he handed her the beer he had opened for Stevie and quickly caught himself by opening the second one and handing it to the right person this time.

In comfortable silence, not that they had the opportunity to talk under these circumstances, they drank their beers and at least two of the three stole glances of each other every so often. It wasn’t long before Tom spotted him again and unwillingly dragged him at the other side of the room.

“Listen this is going to be awkward but I need the room for tonight,” he slurred and wiggled his eyebrows.

“What am I supposed to do for the night, Tom? Seriously now! We had a deal over this” he hissed him low enough for only him to hear.

“Boy,” Tom smirked at him and patted his chest lightly. “Rules are to be broken. Have you never heard of that saying,” and he left him alone cursing his luck? It was December for heaven’s sake where he would crash for the night he had no clue.

“Hey…” greeted the girl who was practically molesting him with her eyes earlier that night. With a sigh, he just searched for Miranda and Stevie near the bar a tremble coursed through his body. He would have said that it was from the hand which was now creeping under his shirt or the overtaxation of his stomach after almost three drinks. And yet if he was ever going, to be honest it was the sight of Miranda snagging a senior by the edge of the bar. His slight escaped whimper only encouraged the girl to dive her hand lower and capture his lips. The next thing he felt was the hard floor and the girl moving on top of him.

“Stop that!” shoving her away from him he runs back to the counter only to find Steevie flirting with a guy of their year and Miranda gone.

“Hey lover boy!” Steevie drawled and turned her attention back to the ridiculous muscle flexing guy.

May I crash at your room for tonight?” he yelled over the music to her and she just frowned at him before shrugging and throwing him the keys. With a relief, he caught them and before he made it out of the room he saw what was probably the hint of him having the girls room all for himself tonight.

The cold air helped with his dizziness and the nauseating sinking feeling he had but his feet were carrying him heavily to his destination. Soon he was in front the girl's dorms and after looking to make sure that he would not be seen by anyone he quickly made it to the girl's front door. Unlocking with some difficulty he entered a dim room with music blasting through the small speakers at the left side of the room. Soon enough he collapsed on Miranda’s bed and closed his eyes.

“Steevie!” a wail came from the bathroom and he jumped right up.

“Miranda is everything all right?” he anxiously knocked the door but didn’t get an immediate reply.

“Gary?” a breathless Miranda replied and then a new wail drilled through the door. Without waiting for permission, he opened the door and was greeted with quite a sight. A Miranda on the bathroom’s floor in pink fuzzy pyjamas and large monstrous feet slippers.

“Good gracious what happened?”

“I fell,” she hiccuped and tried to stop a cry from escaping.

“There, there.” he stepped around her to see how he could help her and when he thought he had it figured he tried to scoop her up. The first try had them both falling and Miranda whimpering in pain.

“I’m so sorry, the second will be better. promise” and indeed it was. The hell of him if he dropped her again.

He set her as gently as he could on her bed and for the first time he noticed how much bigger it was from Steevie's.

“A bit better?” he hesitantly asked. She nodded and he let out a breath of relief. The radio was still playing and the tiredness of the day suddenly came crashing down on him. Without overthinking it he just settled next to Miranda and smiled at her shyly.

“All good tonight?” she asked him without really looking at him.

“Tom hanged his tie tonight, outside our room that is,” he told her and she snickered.

“Thumb fight?” she proposed.

“Over?” he questioned but his eyes had long closed and sleep would certainly overtake him soon.

“I guess is too late,” she sighed and felt her settle deeper in the bed. He searched for her hands and took it in his.

“Set. Go!” he dispassionately said and offered her his thumb. The thumb war was slow and comforting as they were lulled to sleep. Before consciousness left him he heard her sleepily define them for the years to come “We are friends love, best friends” and something shattered in him for the second time in his life.

* * *

  
(October 2008)

Checkmate!


	5. Session 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this a bit more fluff but this story is mostly about angst in the first chapters. Still, I think it's heartwarming. I'll be back after Christmas. Merry Christmas everyone or Happy Holidays!

Session 5

 

> "But in a corner of my mind,
> 
> I celebrated glory."

 

(December 2008)

The roof was cracking under the pressure of the strong passing wind. With the only light coming over their heads shadows crept at the edges of the room. Stocked boxes were placed in random order around them and long forgotten objects were now covered with a thick layer of dust. Carefully arranged in the box Gary was searching at were several Christmas wreaths which although elegant and probably expensive were obviously carrying decades of use.

“My son used to hate Christmas as a child.” Emery mused remembering times when this place was organised and at his request what he was searching for would have been found without that much effort.

“Who could blame a child’s reasoning when a total stranger had access in his house and authority over his presents?” Reasoning human behaviour had come to him as easy as breathing but actually fixing the boys terrors had not been proved to be an easy task. That applied also to the young sulking man in the room.

“Tell me, boy, ever thought of having children?” Gary did not have any particular interest to engage in conversation since he has come this evening. The past sessions passed chattering of work, politics and a some on sports.

“Never have and never will.” Moving to the right corner Gary opened a few more boxes but still had not found what they were searching for. Despite the two glasses of glögg prior he felt his muscles tense unexpectedly every few minutes. With the man's question, though, his stomach joined the uneasiness and gave a violent lurch.

“Troublesome little buggers if you ask me." Emery sniffed in annoyance after checking one more stained cardboard box.

“More like, exceptionally fragile.” He murmured moving a few old tethered leather bags to the side.

“As a parent, you soon realise that the vulnerable one in the parent-child relationship is the parent. Children are tough little creatures.” With a swing of his walking stick, he looked through the rags and still nothing.

“Says the man who probably traumatised his own child with Santa.” Gary swept his now black fingers at the nearest dusting rug and wondered how the old man had lured him in the attic.

“How do you imagine your children. We are not talking about having but about simply thinking of how your children would have looked and acted like.” With another kick from Emery, Gary knew that one more box was not the one they were looking for.

“I can’t imagine something I have never thought about.” Looking through the filthy small window he wished that had been true. Odd thoughts crept your mind when you believed in the illusion of normality and his university years were full of that. Illusion that is.

“I’m a curious man, so if you please..” In a fit of coughs, he drew his handkerchief and pushed yet one more box away from him.

“I guess feisty.” Gary felt the corners of his mouth turn slightly upwards.

“Just feisty? Good lord, you are a realist!” Feeling unsteady he decided that a small break was in order and he plummeted on the ancient looking chest near him.

“Stubborn as well.” He told him in a teasing manner but it was true. Feisty and stubborn were what he had once imagined. But that’s the thing about imagining. They never last for long and they are not to be confused with reality.

“Feisty and stubborn are good qualities for any child.” His free from glasses eyes were now appeared hollowed with two small blue orbs popping. Eyes which were showing that this old body actually had a fierce spirit still within.

“Any physical characteristics?” He asked while cleaning his thick glasses.

“Well, all I can think is tall.” Gary admitted frowning. There was nothing else to imagine really. Children were never in his plans and even to imagine these three characteristics had been enough for him for years.

“Feisty, stubborn and tall. Now that’s vague… Boys or girls?” If Gary had paid close attention to Emery’s eyes he would have seen a slight glimmer shinning when he asked his question.

“Girls.” Gary said without any hesitation. His conviction that if he ever was set in the path of fatherhood, he would have daughters was as far as he had gone on this subject.

“I think I found it!” Emery said in delight and moving around a few more boxes next to the chest he took out a small package.

“Thank God!” Gary opened the attic’s door and waited for the old man to get a good hold of the wall before slowly descending down the stairs.

“You know boy…” Emery’s arrogant tone was heard from the bottom of the stairs.

“A man with your childhood is normal to want to avoid parenthood.” Gary quickly reached the bottom of the stairs and with a slow pace made their way towards the office.

“Men do not imagine children without attributes of their character and their notable features. You are not feisty, although you can be a stubborn one.”

"I certainly am feisty! Also, I’m tall!” Gary contradicted him and walked a bit more hastily leaving the other man a good few feet behind him.

“Boy!” The old man growled at him and Gary stoped in his tracks.

“Feisty, stubborn, tall and all that to a girl. You are not giving me an imaginary child but a part of a family.” His breath was coming out laboured from trying to catch up with that blasted kid.

The boy was not ready for this conversation. That much he knew. But one day long after in time from this evening and with a company different from his, Gary would have to realise that life doesn’t just happen. But dreams sometimes do.

* * *

(June 21 )

The room was uncomfortably hot and the soft buzzing was not as disruptive as he had first thought it would be. Swallowing thickly he turned to the other two persons in the room and his lost look must have been extremely amusing.They both giggled softly but kept their distance from him.

“Are you sure there is nothing…?” He asked still perplexed on how this came to be.

“Nothing.” The middle-aged woman replied and continued to write down the report.

“I just never thought it would be so… different!” he let out a breath and palmed his forehead in frustration.

“A first timer?” The young brunet kindly asked him and at the shaking of his head a new feat of giggles erupted.

“Third actually or can it be considered a fourth?” he questioned himself.

“I’d have expected that you would know by now then.” The older one lightly scolded him and he sheepishly lowered his head.

“Still…” he was worried. It seemed like a dream ready to be snatched away.

“What worries you, Mr Preston?” The woman left the report half-written and decided to give the poor guy a break.

“The boys were never this small and two out of three were twins!” He knew he was hyperventilating but the small creature was unlike anything he had ever seen before him.

“I see.” The nurse murmured and understatement set in.

“I was always dreaming about her and now that she is here I’m just scared.” He whispered his insecurities to people who had never met before tonight. It was not an easy thing to do but becoming the father of a little girl was nothing to what he had imagined it to be. It was more and that was even more terrifying.

“Then dream on sir.” The young nurse told him and looked at the peacefully sleeping infant.

“Your daughter is feisty and certainly a stubborn healthy newborn. Just because she is small now, she has a long built. I would expect her to grow and fast.” It was his turn to giggle and swipe a lone tear quickly.

“Perhaps she will even reach Mummy one day!” Gary wistfully whispered and took the tiny fist in his hand. The baby immediately squealed her displeasure at being abruptly woken up.

“I’d say that that’s a certainty sir. Now if you could fill the remaining blanks and we will wheel this little beauty to her mother.” She handed him the papers and he wrote down what was required from him.

Baby Girl Preston  
Born June 21st, 2017 at 8:20 AM  
Weight: 4 pounds 3 ounces (1.9 kg)  
Length: 17 1/2inches (44.45 cm)  
Name: Emery Preston

* * *

 

(December 2008)

 

Seated once again on the leather armchair’s of the office, Emery placed with outmost care on the coffee table the brown paper package.

"I always wanted a son but my wife was set on having a daughter. It was not meant to be." He told him tapping his pipe in the ashtray harder than he had intended to.

"You got a son at the end." Garry knew at least that much.

"And he had sons, and just a few weeks ago he had the first girl in over four generations was born!" Placing the pipe in his curved lips he took the package and opened it slowly. Inside were a small cloth and a tiny teddy.

"As I said, she was set on having a girl" Emery coughed a laugh and placed the two items once again back where they had been wrapped for the past decades.

"But she did not have a one, her son did." He would not understand Emery's persistence of insisting his deceased wife had gotten what she wanted for herself.

"Some things change and for her, it would have been her baby girl, granddaughter or not" He tried to explain how life worked to the man across him and perhaps one day he would understand for himself.

"Certain dreams are set boy throughout life. But different outcomes can also exceed those dreams. You see, It's all about the conditions the dreams are made into reality." With a sip of the warm mulled wine, he studied Gary processing his words while looking at the fireplace.

"Which are your conditions boy?" He softly asked and Gary's eyes closed briefly to control the thoughts that out of nowhere plugged him. There was a condition and he never thought it would be just one. Just one condition but far away from any notion of children, certainty or future. Just her.

 

End of Fifth Session

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How timeline works for this story
> 
> 2019 (44 y/o) - A Fist of Pure Emotion Timeline  
> 2019- Boys D&E  
> 2017- Girl  
> 2015- Boys B&C  
> 2013- Boy A  
> 2012 (37 y/o) - Wedding  
> 2009 (34 y/o) - Gary comes back as a Chef  
> 2008 (33 y/o) - Tom finds Gary in Malaysia  
> 1999 (22 y/o) - Graduation  
> 1995 (18 y/o) - First Year at the University  
> 1988 (11 y/o) - First actual meeting


	6. Session 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will realise with this one that from now on I'll be going back and forth in time so the session numbers are not the real number of sessions Gary has so far or had in total when I reach the 25th. 
> 
> For some weeks I was stuck because I tried to make this fic progressing in time. It didn't work sorry. I want to write with some more freedom so the entries will not follow a linear time a but hopefully they will be equally enjoyable. 
> 
> This one is set one week before S01E01. The first episode was aired on the 9th of November, 2009. Enjoy.

* * *

 

Session 6

 

> "Whenever I'm wrong"
> 
>  

(30th of October, 2009) 

His fingers toyed with his dry lips as he tried to get more comfortable. The rough material of the train seats felt wrong against his only covered by a short sleeved t-shirt arms. Heat in London was a surprising rarity in mid-September and thus more bothersome than he would ever have expected. With a three-day stubble and a long overdue haircut which made his hair curl, even more, he looked absolutely horrible and the warm weather was not helping him any. 

“Hiding is over. Tom send me this address and you are to be presented there next Wednesday at ten a.m.” Emery had not beat the bushes on kicking him out and sending him his ‘merry’ way. If only his nerves thought it was time to deal with what he was avoiding for over a decade. 

“Honey-puffs! Our seats are here!” a woman vibrating with excitement waved her way to someone behind him and squealed. 

“Coming sugar-smacks!” an equally cheery voice came from now over him. The man took his time to arrange the small luggage and when he seemed satisfied with his work, he sat in his seat. Gary groaned and he cursed not having asked to be placed in a single or at least double seating arrangement. No, he had to end up occupying one out of the four group’s seating.

The couple across him thankfully were totally engrossed into each other and that left him in peace looking out of the window once more. 

“Does my cutesy-pie wants a snack? Yes?” the man just kept with the pet names. For everything holy not even he was not such a mental case. The woman probably had nodded in agreement as he saw from the corner of his eyes the man making his way over her to get to the restaurant carriage. 

“Wait sweet… Garrison Preston? is that you?” the man gawked over his person. Gary felt his shoulders tense and instinctively fisted the soft seat’s cushion. 

“Gary now… And do I know you? Mr…” he had not heard that name in years and he hoped that he never would again. Obviously, he was wrong. So much for leaving certain parts of the past buried for ever. 

“Chris! Remember me? Uncle Jeff’s kid?” Chris impatiently waited for any sign of recognition although it never came. 

“Jeff Stanley? Your mother’s cousin twice removed? Come on now! You used to drag me around the porch whenever you were visiting!” Now he could place him. It was not his spectacular memory which had many gaps during the times he had conventionally _forgotten_  but due to his absolute terror of what lived on that porch. Geese! It was the first time he ever had encountered them and the reason why his father had purchased a few for their backyard. 

“Chris, right” his eyes had closed slightly in regulation for the backlash of memories which could unbalance him. When nothing seemed to resurface, he managed a small smile. 

“So cousins snuggle-bear?” the woman sceptically looked him from tip to toes. 

“One of my favourites back then tootsie!” Garry was taken aback as he never recalled been a favourite at family gatherings. He was always the scrawny little thing who charm everyone but more often than not seemed the solitude of observing such gatherings than actually participating. 

“Then what about being the first to know?” she gleefully suggested. 

“Sure! Garris-… Gary, I’m pleased to present you, my wife!” Christ boasted and his structure seems to fill twice its size. 

“A funny story actually…” the woman began

“We were best mates at the uni..” he followed suit. 

“And I asked him to be my safety husband at 45!” she shyly whispered

“But we had a moment..” he murmured affectionately

“And so we eloped!”  “In Paris!” they both said at the same moment. 

“In Paris!” they both said at the same moment. 

“Eh.. wow?” speechless was an understatement.

The over joyous couple was an uncomfortable sight to be around but the story had some merit. A safety spouse was an intruding idea but certainly not at the age of forty-five. Marriage still scared him and the notion of commitment with the probability of acting out against any wife or children he may have was still a terrifying thought. 

“Pretty wow alright Gary.” Chris said with contentment. 

For the rest of the train ride, they exchanged a few more words as the couple seemed otherwise preoccupied. Chris and Alison were one of these striking gold at first time couples apparently and he could not help but marvel a possibility as such being witnessed by him. Once they reached Bristol he got their number with the promise to let them know when to catch up once he was settled. When he finally disembarked from the carriage his doubts were certainly not gone but the prospect of achieving the small steps he had agreed with Emery gave him a newfound confidence. 

Without going directly to his new flat, he cruised down the main street of the town and found the small restaurant. It was nothing spectacular but it seemed well cared and the people inside were certainly enjoying the cosy atmosphere. 

“Thirty-four and single!” a voice shirked from behind him. 

“Hush Penny!” the slightly husky man chested. 

“Well, it’s true is it not?” she next but wailed while opening the glass door. 

A low murmur could be heard from the restaurant and suddenly a short stocky guy wearing an apron shooshed him away from the door. 

"Wait!” the word came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 

“Look, you seem like a nice guy and all, but If I wait any longer the frosting will fall off and s-“ a childlike voice rambled. 

“Gary Preston, you’ve been expecting me?” he asked in hesitation and looked over the badly frosted muffin. 

“Yes, yes Clive… Tomorrow at 10?” he asked absently and opened with his back the door. 

“Sure… One question, though.” he caught himself unconsciously forming the words.  

“What?” Clive whine in annoyance. 

“Is that a Vanilla and Rum muffin?” he breathlessly questioned. 

“With butterscotch frosting!” Clive proudly said. “But she is never satisfied although she claims to love them!”

“Let me guess. Vanilla and Rum on Fridays?” Garry chuckled at the odds.

“Triple Chocolate on Thursdays” Clive hesitantly in some way confirmed.

“Raspberry on Mondays, Sugar and Cinnamon on Tuesdays…” Gary recited automatically

“And double-layered chocolate cake on Wednesdays” they both mused snickering. 

“I can make all that and the cake of the day” he mostly thought to himself. 

“If you can keep it up for over a week, you are hired full time, no questions asked.” Clive promised him. 

The gleam in Clive's eyes told Garry that he could very well tell who this restaurant was feeding and he was more than happy to comply with the variety it needed. With a happy nod, he waved him goodbye and closed the door behind him without ever entering the restaurant. He had one week to make sure every single recipe would turn exactly as it used to be ten years ago. 

“Hey!” Clive consciously yelled at him without catching the attention of the people inside the restaurant.  Garry turned and looked him questioningly. 

“Yes you! How did you know?” he asked him curiously. 

“I’m Gary.” he told him as if that alone was an explanation itself.

End of Sixth Session

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> You know that song that just sticks with you? Not just because you like the lyrics necessarily but because you can combine it with a certain idea. An idea for a fan fiction story for example. That one song has been heard my thousands or even millions but for you, that song is *cheesy line incoming* the key for unlocking that story which bangs your inspiration’s door. And so you let it in. Sometimes it’s just for a cup of tea, which I absolutely love by the way and I also make some mean chocolate or cranberry scones, but sometimes after that soothing tea it just takes your hand and you literally walk on walls. It can lead you to weird places. I believe that all of us here know how it is to write a story and then something clicks and you just go with it.
> 
> A character, an object, a drink… heck, a bookmark. The two Miranda stories I’ve written are not about an alternative universe. It’s about giving a more dramatic depth in the story we all know. I might be nailing it and I might be torturing all prospect readers. Not all will read this, and I have not decided yet on whether I’ll post this when I finish with this story. But. Yes, but. I wanted to write this because I do this for me. I wanted to make sense of a few things and while dealing with a cheerful yet tormented acquaintance of mine (no similarities with this fic whatsoever by the way) I just felt that there are so many people out there for which you would never spare a second glance. All you would ever be able to see would be a mellow chef behind the counter with a long lasting crush. Or perhaps a crazy shop owner literally stalking the "poor" guy.


End file.
